


Conception

by Emcee



Series: Deadlier If You Mean It [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babies, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Family Fluff, Family Planning, Fluff, Humor, Mind Palace, Relationship Issues, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Slightly Naughty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emcee/pseuds/Emcee
Summary: It was just an idle comment. Inane prattle to fill the time. But once the idea was in Sherlock’s mind, he couldn’t get it out. Molly Hooper was good with children.





	Conception

Sometimes, there were ideas that were hard to delete.

Trivia was one thing. Random facts were simple enough to remove from the hard drive. But an idea... That was trickier. It seemed to lodge itself into the mind. It was dry rot in Sherlock’s Mind Palace, slowly creeping its way into everything.

It had all started with an idle comment from John. They were celebrating their first post-Sherringford case with a Chinese at John’s. 221B was still in no fit state. Molly was already there, having relieved the nanny. Rosie was laying on the ground, Molly holding onto her bare feet. Molly smiled down at her.

“The fibula's connected to the tibia. The tibia's connected to the patella. The patella's connected to the femur.” Molly then shook the girl’s legs. “Now shake dem skeleton bones!”

Rosie giggled madly, shaking her hands up in the air in the joy of Molly playing with her.

John dug his chopsticks into his oyster pail of rice. “She’s good.”

“Hm?” Sherlock glanced away from Molly back to his friend. “Is it really surprising a pathologist would know the correct terms for the parts of the skeleton?”

John rolled his eyes. “I meant she’s good with Rosie. She’s a natural when it comes to kids.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the piece of bao in his mouth. He had never considered such a thing with Molly. Of course he knew how much she liked Rosie. The girl was hard not to like. But her being a natural with children... Molly was a natural with everyone, wasn’t she? She had a sunny— endearingly awkward— disposition and everyone enjoyed her company. Even Mycroft couldn’t deny how amiable she was. It took an extraordinary person to put up with someone like Sherlock. Molly was able to do that with absolute ease. Children were also incredibly malleable. Why wouldn’t they fall for Molly’s charms? But did that make her a natural with them? Was it a desire to have her own that made her connection to Rosie so easy? She was already thirty-six. If she were considering having children, that was most likely a priority for her. But their relationship was still so new! But hadn’t Sherlock himself said that the years that they’d known each other prior to their romantic entanglement meant they could skip many formalities? They weren’t using condoms. Sherlock had always been rubbish at putting them on. They were both clean and Molly was using contraceptive pills. Or was she? There were always things he missed, wasn’t there? Perhaps the pills were something else entirely. But she would tell him if that were the case, wouldn’t she? They hadn’t spoken about reproducing yet. He had a great many things he had to say about it! He wanted to be consulted about any offspring that were in the offering!

“SHERLOCK!” John’s voice broke through the stream of thoughts.

Sherlock blinked. John had been shaking him. “Of course Molly’s good with Rosie,” he answered calmly. “Why did you have to shake me?”

“You’ve been buffering for the past fifteen minutes!”

Sherlock blinked again. He looked to Molly, who had picked Rosie up and was looking at him with great concern.

“Oh.” Sherlock shook his head to rid himself of the thought. “Just some data that needed to be deleted. That case was hardly worth committing to long term memory. Are you ready to go home, Molly?”

Molly nodded. “Oh-okay.” She stood and handed Rosie over to John. She gave the girl a kiss on the cheek. “You be a good girl for your Daddy, Rosie. See you soon.”

Sherlock watched the exchange quietly. It was just a small comment. John had just been filling the air with inane prattle. He hadn’t meant anything by it.

Had he?

 

* * *

 

Once they returned home, Sherlock retired to the spare bedroom. It had become an office for him. While he planned to do most of his work at Baker Street, he wanted to have somewhere he could go to late at night to think and not disturb Molly’s slumber.

He raised violin and bow, playing softly. He wasn’t able to shake the thoughts from his mind. They were pervasively slipping into every crack and crevice in his mind palace.

“Sherlock.” Molly’s voice was a low, seductive purr. She entered the room and leaned over, pressing a warm kiss to his ear. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

Sherlock felt a flare of panic. Molly. Being intimate with Molly. Having a baby with Molly. “I-I’m not tired.”

“Neither am I.” Molly continued to kiss his earlobe. “You and John were on that case for a week. I mean, I’m not surprised you didn’t come to bed with me while you were on the case... You barely eat when you’re working. I wouldn’t expect you to do... Other things. But the case is done now.”

Her small hand slid down his chest towards his fly. Sherlock’s panic rose higher. This had been what he’d wanted, hadn’t it? He had been thinking about it the moment they closed the case. Have some food, take Molly home and reacquaint himself with his beloved. He could already feel his body responding to her hands on him.

He wouldn’t be able to hide his desire from her. She was incredibly good at deducing him and the evidence was, well, _evident_. Sherlock set down his violin on the desk and rose up. He picked Molly up in his arms and kissed her soundly. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to leave you wanting.”

He pushed aside his panic as he laid her down on their bed. He divested her of her sleeping clothes and drank her in. He had missed her in the week he’d been on the case.

But the panic inside him could not be truly quelled. While he wanted to satisfy Molly, he knew he would be unable to shut up his mind enough to fully perform. Alternatives would have to be employed.

So Sherlock spent the event with his head between Molly’s thighs until he’d utterly exhausted her.

Once she was sated, curled up against his chest in a sweaty, contented mess, Sherlock was left alone with his thoughts. He was painfully aroused from his own self-denial and couldn’t stop the thought from running through his tired mind.

No, the thought wasn’t about Molly’s desire to become a parent. The evidence was obvious. But there was one question that nagged at him.

What sort of father would he be?

 

* * *

 

Sherlock had his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He been wrestling with his dilemma for a fortnight.

Workers were clearing up debris around him. Every day, Baker Street was closer and closer to being finished. A fleeting thought popped into his head about perhaps retaining his residence there. Maybe he was hasty in everything with Molly...

No! He would not allow his panic to grip him. To take away the one good thing he’d gotten from all of this heartache. He loved Molly and he didn’t want to cause her any pain.

He wanted to give her... Everything.

“Rosie was an accident.” Sherlock said suddenly.

John dropped the charred book he was holding. “Pardon?”

“Rosamund. Your daughter. You and Mary were surprised by her conception.” Sherlock eyed John carefully.

“You know perfectly well we were!” John spat back.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “I’m just stating facts to set up my query. You were not prepared for fatherhood. Yet you’ve embraced it wholeheartedly. How did you prepare yourself for it?”

John shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she sprung forth fully formed, is it? I had months to adjust to the idea, find out what I needed to know. And I did. And I just sort of... Learned how to do it.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “And anyone can learn that?”

“Of course.” John chuckled. “You just have to be dedicated to your child. Be ready to put them first. Why are you asking this?” His eyes widened. “Sherlock, is Molly—?”

“Oh no. Molly’s not pregnant!” Sherlock shook his head. He then smiled. Yes. This was the right choice. He was sure of it.  “But I plan to make her so.”

“Where did this come from?” John demanded. “Is that what you’ve been sitting there thinking— not helping— about all day?”

“Well,  it’s a momentous decision, isn’t it? Deciding to pass on my genetic material to an offspring? But I really should stop talking about it.” Sherlock jumped from his chair. He grabbed his Belstaff. “Time for action!”

“Sherlock!” John called after him. “This is not going to go well!”

But Sherlock wasn’t listening. He had made up his mind.

Whatever Molly wanted, Molly was going to get.

 

* * *

 

Molly had only just walked through the door when Sherlock descended upon her, kissing her with ferocious passion. He was wrestling with her jumper, trying to pull it over her head without breaking their kiss... Or even removing her coat. It made it incredibly difficult.

"Sherlock..." Molly mumbled against his mouth. "Sherlock..." She pushed him away. "What on Earth has gotten into you?"

"My want for you," Sherlock let his voice drop to the deep, rich baritone he knew made Molly quiver. "I've been desiring you, waiting for you to return home." He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her towards their bedroom.

Molly purred happily and dug her fingers in his hair. "This is a change. You've been off lately."

Sherlock dropped Molly onto the bed. He slowly crept up her body, looming over her. "I've been struggling with a conundrum. But I've finally reached a conclusion."

Sherlock began to tear at Molly's clothes anew. "I want to bury myself in you. I want to leave us both sated and exhausted." He leaned in towards her mouth. "I want to put a baby in you."

The reaction was instantaneous. Molly shrieked and shoved Sherlock off of her. He tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. He looked up and her, eyes wide with shock. "What's wrong?"

" _Everything_ is wrong!" Molly exclaimed. She tugged her clothes back around herself. "Why would you say something like that? For two weeks, Sherlock-- _two weeks!--_ you’ve been avoiding having sex with me. And don't think I haven't noticed it! Any time we have gotten intimate, you've just dove down south. I didn't say anything because I know you do things your own way and I'm not one to turn down fantastic oral sex."

Sherlock was still in too much shock to preen over his apparent skill. He got back up onto the bed and took Molly’s hands. "I told you: I've been thinking very seriously about your wants. It's taken me a while, but I've come to the conclusion that if we are to be in this relationship... If I am to truly love you... I need to give you everything you desire."

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And you think I desire a baby."

"Yes."

Molly nodded slowly. "All right. Let's go to the kitchen."

Sherlock frowned deeply. "The kitchen?"

Molly nodded once again. She rose from the bed and held a hand out to help Sherlock up. "Yes. We have a lot of things to talk about and if we're going to do that, I think we need a cuppa."

Ten minutes later, Molly pushed the mug of steaming hot tea towards Sherlock. She sat across from him at the counter. She had a pensive look upon her face. "Sherlock, what makes you think I want to have a baby?"

Sherlock frowned, wrapping his hands around the mug. He didn't really want to drink it, but the warmth was comforting. "John made a comment about how good you were with Rosie."

Molly sighed. “ _That's_ why you were buffering. Has that been bothering you for the last two weeks?"

Sherlock nodded. He let go of his mug to take a hold of Molly's hands. He bowed his head. "I won't be a good father, Molly Hooper. I'm selfish, ill-tempered, immature..." He shook his head. "Oh, what's the point in mentioning all my flaws? You know them all. I'd never considered having a child of my own. It has never been a desire of mine. But in this relationship, I wish to give you anything and everything that will make you happy. I may not be a natural fit at fatherhood, but John says if you are dedicated to learning, that you can." He looked up at her. "I can only hope I will be adequate."

Molly smiled at him. She leaned over and gave him a fond kiss on the forehead. "Sherlock, you are an absolute _clot_. Did you ever think about actually talking to me about any of this instead of torturing yourself for two weeks? Did you think I was trying to get pregnant? Is that why you wouldn't have sex with me?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, trying to stop the heat rising in his cheeks. "Sometimes, logic is overwhelmed by panic."

"That could have been settled if you'd just spoken to me about all of this. No, Sherlock... I'm not trying to get pregnant. I'm on birth control. I have been for a very long time now and I don't plan to stop. Which I would have told you if you had just _talked to me._ We are in a relationship. That means we have to talk to each other if something is wrong. Okay, I should have asked you why you didn't want to have sex, but if you had something on your mind you know you can come to me. We could have cleared this up very easily."

Sherlock bowed his head to kiss Molly's hands. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly. I needed time to come to terms with everything. The idea of becoming a father is terrifying for me. I needed to process."

"You didn't need to process it." Molly squeezed his hands tightly. "You've worked yourself into a panic over an assumption."

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. "You don't want to have a baby now." His shoulders slumped, the tension finally leaving his body after weeks of torment. "Of course. Our relationship is still so new. We're both still a mess of emotions in the wake of Mary and Eurus. Hardly a time to bring a new life into the world. I should have spoken to you. I apologize, Molly. But everything is well now. When you feel you're ready, we can readdress this issue."

Molly shook her head. "No, we're going to address this now. Sherlock, tell me quite honestly... Do you want to have a baby?"

Sherlock pulled his hands away. He took a deep sip of his tea. "It was never something I'd even considered before John mentioned your natural gift with children. As I said, I don't think I would be a natural fit. But it's something I could learn. If you desire to have children, then of course I would provide that to you. I'm sure it's something I will find fulfilling."

"I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do," Molly said firmly. "Yes, you would probably end up being brilliant at being a father. You're already wonderful with Rosie and Archie. But having children has never been in your life's plan. And Sherlock, you're overlooking something quite important..."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "What's that?"

Molly actually laughed. "Having children has never been in _my_ life's plan. Yes, I'm good with children. Yes, children are absolutely wonderful. I love being around children... But I also love when children go home! Not every woman has a burning desire to bring a child into the world. To be honest, one of the reasons many of my relationships have failed is because a lot of men are put off by the idea of women not wanting kids. Thought there was something wrong with me."

Sherlock blinked at his beloved. How could he have missed that? He'd known Molly for years. How had he not known she didn't want children? "Have you always felt like this?"

Molly nodded. "Yes. I would've long ago had tubal occlusion, but no doctor was willing to do it on a woman as young as me with no children. Like I said, children are brilliant. I do like them. But it just never felt right for me. I've never thought too deeply about the whys and wherefores... I've known for a very long time it wasn't for me. Even when I was a kid, when my friends were playing Mummy with their dollies, I preferred to play hospital. Believe me, my mother was cross with how many times I did operations on my toys."

Sherlock laughed. Oh, his Molly was such a perfect and strange creature. She rose from her seat and moved around the counter. Sherlock turned to face her and she parted his legs so she could fit easily between them. She draped her arms over his shoulders. "And I mean absolutely no offense, Sherlock... You know I love you... But if I had a deep need for children I don't think I would be in a relationship with a danger obsessed, emotionally stunted, recovering junkie. I know you don't want children either."

Sherlock pressed his cheek against hers. "I would have done it for you."

He could feel Molly smiling. "That is a lovely thought, but having children isn't something you should do for someone else. It should only be done of both partners want it. This is why we need to be honest with each other, Sherlock. We're in a relationship now. We need to decide on what is right for both of us." She pulled back to look at him. "Sherlock, were you so keen on having sex right now so you wouldn't talk yourself out of having a child?"

Sherlock swallowed hard, bobbing his head. "I will admit... I thought it best to get it over with." He shrugged slightly. "I've also been denying myself pleasure for the past two weeks, plus the week John and I were on our case. My body was a bit keen."

"You are _utterly_ ridiculous. Next time something is bothering you, please tell me."

She pulled back, taking Sherlock's hand and pulling him along. He had no choice but trail after her.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, slightly confused.

"We're finished talking now," Molly assured him. She gave him a saucy smile. "And I think we have some time to make up for."

"Oh!" Sherlock grinned. "I think I'd be all right with that. More than all right."

Molly pulled him towards their bedroom. She got on tip-toes to kiss him. "Now we'll do this as long as you promise me... No making decisions before talking to each other."

Sherlock crossed a finger over his heart. "I promise."

He sighed happily as Molly pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his lap. He kissed her firmly. "Molly... What do you think about getting a dog?"

Molly giggled. "We'll talk about it. _Later_."

 

con·cep·tion

noun

  1. the action of conceiving a child or of a child being conceived.
  2. the forming or devising of a plan or idea.



 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really important story for me to write and I’ve had this idea in my head since back in the day writing The Full House series. While I have nothing against babyfic and there are some wonderful ones out there, I’m not fond of the idea of it being a cert Molly would want one. As Molly states in the fic, a lot of women don’t want to have children, even if they like other people’s children. I think it’s fitting that Molly— given her age and the kind men she’s attracted to— might not have that as a priority.


End file.
